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by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

"Cece, what did you mean earlier this morning when you said it had been ‘quite a night?" Miguel asked.
"Nothing to do with Rachel. A player was running late so Hayden invited me to fill in at the table till he arrived— that's all," Cece smiled.
"With whom, for God's sake?" Sara asked
"Let's see, George Goodman, Hayden Rookwood, a guy named Fred, and a Donald something. All I know about them is that they're lousy poker players," said Cece.
"That was brave," said Miguel.
"Oh, please, my dad and granddad were cowboys, I know how to play poker. It was only a hundred-dollar buy-in, and, as I said, they were easy marks," Cece chuckled.
"So, you went home a winner?"
"Giddy-up," Cece smiled.
"How late did the game last?" Sara asked.
"I don't know. The guy I was sitting in for arrived at ten-thirty. The game was still going strong when I went to bed around eleven-thirty", said Cece.
"You didn't see Rachel after leaving the pool this afternoon, or before bed?" asked Miguel.
"Not a trace, but I can tell you she was anxious to continue our conversation; she had promised to share some dirt on what she called the velvet mafia, and some gallery that was closing," said Cece. "She was also getting a little flirty in the pool after her third drink, for whatever that's worth."

"So, we're expected to sit idly by, waiting to see what's next? Alissa,can you ring Aisha and see what's up?" Miguel was eager to initiate an investigation.
"Um, I work for her, she's my boss, so I'm gonna pass on that idea," Alissa said.
"Could you text her that I want to see her? I am your responsibility after all," Miguel said.
"That I can do," Alissa pulled out her phone and typed a message.

A minute later, Alissa's phone vibrated on the table. Alissa held the phone up for Miguel to see. He nodded and went into the house.
Aisha and a man in uniform were seated around a game table in the great room. Miguel approached the table.
"Miguel, this is chief Eric Jefferson of the East Hampton Valley Police Department," Aisha said. The chief stood up and shook Miguel's hand.
"Nice to meet you, I'm glad you're here," said Miguel.
"Have a seat," said Aisha.
"Thanks," Miguel drew out a chair.
Aisha explained that Jefferson had agreed to send a team from his office to gather any available evidence from the beach site so it could reopen for the holiday. They had checked out Rachel's room and her luggage. Her wallet, money, passport, and phone were in her purse, and the chief left them where they were, locking the door until further notice. He also alerted the Coast Guard of the details, but there were no reports of bodies or remains washed up on shore, or sighted offshore. Jefferson said there's little more he could do until forty-eight hours had passed. That clock started ticking at eleven p.m. yesterday, July 3.

The chief went on to complain that the Fourth of July was his busiest day of the year, and then rose to leave.
Miguel had one final question: "If, forty-eight hours from now, there's still no Rachel, then it's an investigation, but not until?"
"If somebody files the report after 48 hours, we will open an investigation and take the appropriate steps," said Jefferson.
"Will we have to make statements, or are we free to return to Santa Fe?" Miguel asked.
"If you have any info you think might be helpful, please share it now. If we open an investigation after you've returned to Santa Fe, we'd probably interview you via Zoom.
"Okay, thanks, I'm not feeling in a festive mood any longer," said Miguel.
"None of us is Miguel," Aisha remarked.
Jefferson rose, and Miguel rose with him and extended his hand. They shook, and the chief turned to leave. Aisha gestured for Miguel to sit down again.
"We have some other problems to discuss. Can you spare a few minutes?" Aisha asked.
"Sure, what's up?"
"We have Paps outside."
"Paps? What's that?"
"Paparazzi," she answered.
"Shit, are you kidding?" said Miguel.
"Afraid not. We aren't sure if they know what's going on, or if they were following the chief to see if he'd lead them to a juicy story," said Aisha.
"If it gets out that Rachel is missing and that it happened here, where that artist who was on Good Morning America today is staying, it's going to be all over the news for the rest of the week," said Miguel.
"I know it sounds cold-hearted, but that's not the worst news I've gotten today. Welcome to being a celebrity. It always happens quicker than you like," said Aisha.
Miguel said nothing; still processing the morning's events to provoke some new meaning out of them, all without luck. But he knew he wanted to go home, he was sure of that.
"The mood isn't exactly festive, is it? Have you decided what the plans are for today and the rest of the weekend?" Miguel asked.
"Given the Rachel situation, we are canceling all the events. It's disrespectful of her; we'll just have to regroup," said Aisha.
"Not to mention a publicity storm here in the neighborhood when word of her disappearance gets out," Miguel said.
"That's why we cancelled all the events. Instead, a simple release in a week or so when we know more about the situation with Rachel," said Aisha.
"I agree with that. Sara and I are exhausted and ready to head home. The past thirty days have been crazy. You're not planning to go ahead with the party you had planned for today, are you?" Miguel asked.
"The news about Rachel will probably have spread all over town by the end of today. It's not going to look good that we're all partying while she's missing," said Aisha gravely.
"The house guests are welcome to stay, but no actual party or outside guests out of respect for Rachel. Alissa is already on the phone, cancelling all the invites for today. Lunch will be a buffet served out here on the veranda," she added.
When everyone was finally seated for lunch, the mood was palatably downbeat. The guests and the staff were unsure how to process the news, so silence prevailed. The chef rolled out a steam table along with another table of salads and bread.

As he played with the food on his plate, Miguel's attention was drawn to a boat idling in the Sound with its bow pointed straight at them, maybe three hundred yards off shore. By the time they had finished the salad course, there were three boats.
"Don't look now, but I think we have company," Miguel said to the table, pointing toward the Sound.
"Paparazzi. It looks like word has gotten out. Fast work on a slow news day," said Alissa.
"Somebody should probably turn on the TV," said Aisha.
Two other boats cruised slowly past in opposite directions, no more than a hundred yards out, the lenses of cameras and binoculars glinting in the midday sun.
"Let's finish eating inside," said Aisha, her appetite gone.

Regrouping in the dining room, where the TV was still set up, Aisha turned it on, scanning for local news. WNYW had Rachel's picture on the screen. Everyone looked around the room in silence. The picture changed to one of Miguel and Jake Hanson at the opening in Santa Fe. The announcer had even less information than they had, but like it or not, Rachel and Miguel were now in the news cycle until Rachel reappeared—or didn't.

Miguel buried his head in his hands when two police officers showed up to gather evidence from the beach, in plain view of the paps.
"I don't think I'm hungry at the moment." Miguel got up, looked at Sara, and cocked his head towards the doorway to the great room. Inside they buried themselves deep in a leather Chesterfield sofa to discuss their next move.
"No better time to travel and beat the crowds," said Miguel.
"If we leave now, we'll probably end up flying commercial and have to pay for our own tickets. Same if we hang around. Remember what Aisha said; don't get too used to it," Sara reminded him.
Cece emerged from the dining room. Sara waved her over to join them.
"When do you want to leave?" Sara asked Cece.
"ASAP, this party is dead! If we stay, by tomorrow afternoon, we'll be involved in a police investigation. Then we'll have to fight the post holiday hordes to get home. No thanks!"
"I'm with you," said Sara.
"Who gets to break the news to our hosts?" asked Miguel.
"You're the guest of honor, honey," said Sara, looking at Miguel.
"I'll float it by Aisha; consider it part of my new schedule of duties," Cece volunteered.
"Thanks mom," Miguel said, as Cece went to talk to Aisha.

Aisha was in the kitchen with the Chef. Cece sat down with them in the kitchen nook and explained it simply; they were exhausted and didn't see the point of hanging around to display a stiff upper lip for two more days.
"I'm guessing you feel the same way? How about George and Mary Goodman and the Rookwoods?" Cece queried.
"The Goodmans? They're packing now, and the Rookwoods have decided they missed New York. The party is over," said Aisha.

"I say we do the neighbors a favor, and bail for the airport. When we vacate the premises, the paps will abandon their housesitting," said Cece.
"I agree, I'll have Alissa arrange a jet for Santa Fe as soon as possible. But I can't say exactly when," Aisha said.
"Thanks for understanding, I promise you Miguel and Sara are appreciative," said Cece, getting up to let the others know.
"All aboard for Santa Fe," Cece said. A few seconds later, Alissa's phone lit up with a beep, and she looked at the screen.
"Okay, I gotta go find you a jet. I'll keep you posted, but I suggest you start packing," Alissa said.

It only took a few hours for the news to reach Santa Fe. Miguel and Sara's phones were blowing up. All the New Mexico stations were eager to cover the events in East Hampton once a local celebrity artist's involvement became known. It seemed as if anyone who ever had his number, for any reason, was calling. Miguel finally turned his phone off and told Sara to please put hers on vibrate if she insisted on having it on.

A porter carrying two large carry-ons came down the stairs, followed by the Goodmans, everyone gathered in the foyer for goodbyes.
"I wish we were leaving on a happier note," said Mary Goodman.
"We just pray Rachel is okay," said George.
"Cece, We'l see you in New York soon, Aisha will keep you posted as we finalize the details. For now, go see what they're up to in Santa Fe," Mary urged.
"Thank you both for everything," said Cece.
Sara gave each a hug. Miguel shook George's hand, air-kissed Mary, and thanked them for everything as the driver loaded the luggage. Miguel, Cece, and Sara went to pack. Alissa's phone rang faintly in the background. They were the only remaining guests, if you didn't count Aisha and Alissa.

A few paparazzi boats were still clustered in the Sound. The stakes and cones had been removed after the police left with the clothes. Now, as the afternoon cooled, beaches on either side of them started coming alive, grills were firing up, dogs and kids in the water having a splash, and adults gathered in groups that mostly avoided looking at the house, but not completely.

The three of them found the comfort of cool air in the leather of the great room, away from the eyes and cameras scanning the veranda and gallery. Sara sought out the bar and asked if anyone wanted a drink. Two hands shot up, then Aisha walked in and joined them.
"Whiskey," said Cece.
"Same," said Miguel and Aisha in unison.
"Coming right up," said Sara.
"Talking about this Rachel situation, it'll require careful monitoring to ensure that the narrative doesn't turn against Miguel in any way," said Aisha.
Alissa interrupted, "I can have you on a jet at eight p.m., if that works?"
"Book it,"
"Like a rumored affair between Rachel and Miguel, just like I joked about? Great copy, guaranteed to sell out, even without pictures," said Cece.
"You all wanted something to extend the Good Morning America story. I hope Rachel didn't have to give her life for that," said Miguel bitterly.
"Easy, honey, nobody could have foreseen this," Sara said, to calm him.
"My team will make sure nothing negative makes the news. We'll be able to spin, I promise," said Aisha.
"Thanks," said Miguel.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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